


A Rule of Thumbs (about dumb people)

by elkalot



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Banter, Crack Treated Seriously, Crime, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gay, Gay Panic, George is stereotypically British in this, Hangover, London, London Underground, M/M, No Smut, Out of Character, Partners in Crime, Slow Burn, Swearing, Tax evasion, Trespassing, Vandalism, again this is for jokes, and they were roomates, chill angst, minor crimes, no beta we die like men, random extra characters for plot, technically roadman George but not really, this is for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elkalot/pseuds/elkalot
Summary: "Do it, aim for the face.""I'm not going to do it dude.""Do it Dream, shoot God in the face."---Dream likes to be safe. George doesn't care.Dream likes to have his own rules. George didn't ask.When Dream finally flies out to London to meet up with his long-time online friend, the only thing that can cross his mind is pure, unfiltered worry of what chaos him and his buddy were going to embark on; or worse, cause. He just hoped his rules of thumbs he had meticulously collected and taught himself from his calls with George would keep him from stumbling too much, whether that was from falling in trouble; or something much, much worse - but honestly, knowing George, it was all too likely that there wouldn't be a difference.(a/n: hey! this is a safe fic, I know that it has the tags 'alcohol' and basically minor crimes, but the plot is not them getting into trouble with the law! I'll ad tw when they are drunk, and if you do read this, just know that there will be a happy ending and no one will get physically hurt, maybe a bit hung over though :)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Coffee cups and missed calls

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've posted on this platform, I'm really new with a03, so bare with me if you stick around to see where this mess goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes hello this is my first fanfic :D it's not going to be the best thing, but eh, this is just for fun after all :) There's a small disclaimer at the end I recommend reading, it's just for my own piece of mind

Leaves twirled in the summer breeze, as gentle strokes of light shone through the thick, grey clouds that were huddled in the sky. As Dream finished his coffee in a surprisingly empty Costa, he observed just how serene it all looked. Even with the abundance of people bustling around the airport car park, the world outside seemed eerily still... and dull. Even the trees looked hauntingly lonely in the distance, as they peaked out over various construction sites that were set up just beyond the fences.

He had landed in Stanstead about two hours ago, and was waiting for George to come pick him up.

Three small cups sat stacked on top of each other on the table before him, all finished and empty, rings of brown coffee stains lining each porcelain. Gulping down the final particles of undissolved coffee grounds, Dream felt annoyed that he would be adding a fourth to this collection. Cringing at the bitter taste that was left in his mouth, he gently balanced the cup on the others. It made a weird clanking noise, and Dream just hoped that they wouldn't topple over and break. He only had a ten pound note left on him, and knew he couldn't pay the baristas back if he damaged them. His genius self had accidentally left his wallet all the way back in Florida, far out of his reach. No debit cards, no drivers license, nothing. He was just glad he didn't forget his passport and boarding tickets.

He sighed silently to himself, as he left his seat next to the window to make his way to the counter, to order yet another cup. This time, he decided to order it in a plastic one, to take away. Of course he went to order another one, he wasn't stupid. He could tell the baristas were growing suspicious as to why he was there for so long, staring into space, with costa cups stacked in front of him. His eyes scanned the options before approaching the lady and asking for a caramel iced latte. He had never tried that drink before, but he figured that if he was going to be buying his final coffee that day, he might as well try something new. He hesitated ever so slightly before handing the lady his final cash, before mumbling a small, "thanks," and waiting for his order to be made.

He should have used that money to get a taxi.

Instead, he was making his way back to his little spot with a cold cup of brown ice, completely broke.

George was very, very late - and to be honest, Dream wasn't surprised. Throughout their years of being friends, George would always come late to... well everything actually. He'd always have some dumb excuse as well, even when it didn't make sense, or he didn't need one. That was always a given to Dream: _never expect George to turn up on time_. To be honest, that mantra never bothered him, he wasn't exactly punctual himself; but as he returned to his seat by the window, a certain vexation began to set in his stomach. He had texted George six times since he'd landed in London, and tried calling him twice. All of his attempts to reach out to the guy were either left on read, or not picked up.

Ignored.

Dream just assumed George must have been driving; he was beginning to realise just how bold it was of him to assume that George had even left his house.

He sat down by his cluttered table, before bringing the paper straw that was in the tall beverage to his lips. _Way too sweet,_ he silently noted, making a slight face as he put the drink down - but there were far bigger things to be worrying about.

Where the hell was this dude?

Pushing the plastic cup filled with sickly sugar away from him, Dream reached into his backpack and searched around for his phone. It wouldn't hurt to try calling George again, it was rather weird that it was taking him so long anyways. His badgering could have easily been excused for simple concern. Because of this, Dream wasn't too worried about the spam he was leaving for his friend, and felt no regret when he finally pulled out his mobile. He began tapping away at the bright screen, eyes squinting as he watched the blinking screen. With one more sip of his coffee, his finger pressed on his friend's name, and the screen turn black and to indicate that it was calling. The gentle dial tone began ringing.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four times.

Five.

Just as Dream was about to give up and press disconnect, a groggy, "What?" spilled out of the phone speakers with a familiar accent.

Finally.

"Dude, where the hell are you?" asked Dream, leaning back in his chair.

"Stalker much, at home, where else would I be?"

Dream knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

"What do you mean at home? You're supposed to be picking me up from the airport."

Silence, and sudden shuffling could be heard on the other end of the call.

"Oh yeah, I was joking dude. I'm almost there. Remind me again how far away Stanstead airport is from my house?"

What? He really hadn't left his house after all?

Dream wanted to yell in anger. He couldn't believe this.

"George... George you _imbecilic neanderthal_ , what the fuck are you even doing? How do you _forget_ that your best friend is flying over? You have any idea how much I'm exhausted from that nine hour flight? Let me say that again. NINE HOUR FLIGHT. You could have told me you weren't going to come, and I could've paid for a taxi. Now, I'm sitting, alone, in an airport, with no money, no will to live, and an incredibly overwhelming temptation to snap a certain someone's neck."

Dream stood up from his seat and began grabbing his luggage and putting everything roughly where it should have been. He could feel the baristas looking at him in confusion, but really didn't care.

"Listen I thought you were coming tomorrow idiot, and I'm almost certain that's what you told me. I'm on my way, relax, just wait for another twenty minutes and I'll be there," he could hear George putting on his coat and opening his door, the slight jingling of keys gave it away. He scoffed when he heard the words _relax_ escape his friends mouth.

Dragging his suitcase behind him, backpack thrown over his shoulders, Dream couldn't help but laugh as he left the overpriced coffee shop. He could feel some more people glancing at him, but again, he didn't care. Disbelief was clouded over his mind, so a few odd looks meant nothing to him in that moment. In fact, he knew that if he told those people what was going on, they'd be laughing too. Guess George really was that predictable: _never expect George to turn up on time_ had a 'never' for a reason.

"What are you laughing at moron?" George asked. Dream could hear the man starting his car engine.

"I saw a picture of your mum," Dream said, as the cool UK summer breeze hit his face.

"Wow so funny, I'm in stitches."

"Incredibly so, after all I'm the best comedian out there," Dream said, as he looked around for a good spot to sit on the pavement. He wanted George to feel as bad as possible for abandoning him when he finally arrived. What better way to do so than by making himself appear like he was left on the streets: cold, alone, and abandoned.

"The word you're looking for is clown," George said, chuckling at his friend's arrogance.

"After spending so much time with you, of course I'll pick up a few things. Your clownery is clearly rubbing off on me," Dream said slyly, smirking to himself. The ground was incredibly cold, but his mind was set on making George look like a complete ass, even if it was an already well established fact.

"Spending so much time with me? If that's such an issue, why don't you start pissing off then?"

Damn, Dream must've hit a nerve.

"What?"

"You know, you're acting like such a prick Dream."

Dream couldn't help but smirk as he listened to his friend mumble on.

"Okay yes I fucked up, but don't act like you're not the embodiment of a train wreck."

"Hey-"

"You know what, never even liked you to begin with, why should I care about what you say."

Dream disconnected the call, laughing at his friends defensive comments. For someone who insists on keeping to himself, it was incredibly easy to push George's buttons. After all: _The bigger the mouth, the more fragile the ego._

His phone rang again, but it was Dream's turn to ignore George; and honestly, Dream was surprised at how liberating it felt to get to hang up on his friend for the second time that night. So goddamn liberating.

Putting his phone on silent, he looked out over the car park. Cars he didn't recognise were zooming in and out, people he didn't know were rushing about. He felt like an ant, sitting in a small corner, observing the humans bustling around in their strange ways. He put his phone away in his bag, before putting his coat back on. The cold had started to nip at his skin.

As the world slowly moved around him, Dream couldn't help but let his mind start to think. More so: worry. He couldn't help but feel a small slither of doubt about this whole trip. Of course he did, he expected himself to feel concern about this one-on-one time he'd have with his friend for almost a month.

Why? Well...

_Dream liked to be safe. George didn't care._

_Dream liked to have his rules. George never asks._

As Dream leaned against the grainy wall behind, he couldn't help but let himself realise the plethora of possibilities that could spawn out of that entire month. Oh god. How their clashing of personalities could result in clashing of wants, clashing of decisions, clashing of new people, hell - even clashing with the _law -_ anything could be possible when he finally gets dropped into the battle field. What would they do when George wants to to do something but Dream wants to stay in, what would HE do when George starts to press _his_ buttons?

Worry bubbled in the depths of his stomach, he could feel it fizzling away and biting his sanity. It nipped, and tossed, and trampled over his mind, slapping away any other thoughts that didn't include the trip, and well... George.

Eh, he was probably just nervous about meeting him for the first time. Dream should've expected that, first impressions were always stressful.

Wait.

_Oh god._

George would be meeting him for the first time. This would be the first time George had ever seen him. What would he think of him? Would he laugh at him? Would he poke fun at him? Why did Dream even care?

His mind began bouncing back and forth faster and faster as possibilities began to swarm his thoughts, for what seemed like forever. Long enough for the huddled clouds to have dispersed, and for the moon to start peeping out from behind the tall trees and constructions in the distance, that were slowly becoming meer silhouettes in the darkness.

He was so deep in thought, that he didn't even realise that a familiar car had pulled into the car park, in the midst of all others, and someone he knew emerged from the driver's seat.

"Hey dude, you okay?"

Guess most of Dream's questions were about to be answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here is a needed disclaimer from me that I just rlly want to say so I'm not worried too much about people judging me:
> 
> I just have to say this before I get into anything, I don't really ship these two. Or anyone actually.
> 
> Especially in real life, and no one should. These are real people with actual lives and emotions, not toys. I'm just bored and want to do a dumb romance and I'm too lazy to be creative and create my own characters and dynamics. I just wanted to try something new and since I'm quite into mcyt, I just thought this ship was my safest bet at writing a fanfiction which isn't just seen as creepy or weird. 
> 
> Just wanted to clarify that.
> 
> If Dream and George do eventually get uncomfortable with shipping, then I'll take this down or maybe change out their names if this turns out better than I hoped for.
> 
> Yeah that's all :D 
> 
> \- elkalot xx


	2. Colours and Radio Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halo :D i have a few chapters already prewritten, so up till like chapter 6 this'll probably have frequent updates :)

Looking out of the car window, Dream was really annoyed.

George and him had been stuck in that car for the past half an hour, and he had just realised he had left his coffee back at the airport. Alone and abandoned, next to his mini recreation of the Tower of Pizza, ice probably fully melted and the paper straw turned to mush. Great, yet another thing he'd have to add to his list of things he had forgotten. He sighed, letting himself inhale the artificial minty aroma that polluted the car he was stuck in. He really had wasted that tenner for nothing in the end.

Oh well.

Watching as droplets of rain drizzled wildly across the dirty car window, Dream watched as the outside world blurred past him. The different colours outside the thick glass merged together like liquid paint bleeding through a pile of tissues. It was hard to tell where they currently were, but it sure did look cool. It may have been the middle of the night, but the street lamps that illuminated the long winding road and car blinkers made for an interesting light show against the neglected dark greens that resided on the sides of the motorway. A motorway that never seemed to damn end.

During the ride, Dream had let himself continue to indulge in empty thoughts as he watched tree after tree after tree go by faster than he could count. Only silly things, like 'I wonder how many Legos it would take to make a whole person' or 'How does one spell porkupyne? Porkepein? Porkiepine?'. Dumb and stupid; but Dream didn't mind as he watched yet another car overtake them for the fifth time that night. In fact, the reason that he finally realised his small blunder back at the airport was because he had been thinking a lot during the ride.

You know, to compensate for the fact that neither of them were talking.

After gazing out the window for a few seconds longer, Dream averted his gaze and turned to face George. George was completely focused on the road, with one hand gripping the bottom of the wheel while the other was rested on the small window ledge of the driver's door. Dream could see George's eyes were dead set on the concrete they were driving on, carefully observing other cars that were cruising along with them. Dream was mildly surprised. He hadn't thought that George would be such a careful driver.

He didn't know what he expected to be honest, and couldn't decide if he was glad or not that a pleasant silence was being shared between them. Usually, they'd be shouting over each other in calls, fighting to be louder than the other whilst simultaneously ignoring their eardrums begging for them to stop. It was strange that little conversation was exchanged, in fact, neither of them had said anything since they had left the airport and his coffee. Even then, not much was said...

_\- small flashback -_

"Hey dude, you okay?" Asked a voice just in front of where Dream was sitting. He quickly lifted his head to look at the person before him, and was (debatably) happy to see that it was George, looking down at him with his eye brows arched in confusion, "Why are you sitting on the ground? There's an empty bench right there, knobhead."

Dream smiled a bit as he looked at the guy before him. George definitely looked older in person: that was the first thing that crossed his mind. It was a running gag in the fanbase to joke that George was actually the youngest of the DreamTeam, but as Dream watched George offer him a hand to get up he could see that that wasn't the case.

He didn't mean it in a bad way though. He didn't mean that George looked like a mummified zombie or something. His face simply looked... skinnier... and his eyes smaller than when Dream saw him on camera, giving him a sort of snake-like ***** appearance and adding years to the baby-face that Dream thought George had. His brown eyes were striking, his black hair more evidentially dented, his skin so pale that Dream could almost swear it glowed in the incoming darkness. He low key looked cool, like if Snow White had discovered gaming and rejected human interaction; which technically was half true. He watched as George's eyes glazed over his own features, clearly also taking in his friends appearance. Dream couldn't decide if he liked the judgemental glow in his friend's eyes, and definitely would've said something to ease up the tension, but the cold was practically strangling his voice-box. Jesus Christ when did the temperature drop so low?

He wondered if George thought of him the same way he was thinking of George. He could only hope for the best, as he grabbed the outstretched hand and lifted himself off the ground.

_\- end flashback -_

"You still haven't answered my question," George said, still looking at the road ahead, "And I can feel you staring at me, what's up?"

Dream turned to look at the road as well, before saying, "Eh, it's nothing big, I forgot my coffee at the airport."

George scoffed at that, and a small smirk cracked at his lips, "Seriously? Want us to turn back?"

"Nah, it tasted disgusting anyways," Dream sighed, gently resting his forehead of the passenger door window.

"Disgusting? What did you order?" 

"Something, something, lots of ice, something caramel something," Dream recalled poorly, shutting his eyes for a moment. To him, the car still seemed silent, and he was slowly growing tired of looking at trees. He could almost swear they were going in circles.

"Wow, sounds appetising," George laughed, taking his gaze off the road, "But you still haven't answered my question."

Dream sighed, not entirely sure what George meant by that, but Dream was too tired to care. They hadn't even turned on the radio for some background noise, so some small talk was better than nothing.

"Not sure what you mean by that," Dream said, his words muffled as he covered his face with his jacket sleeve. Harsh light filled the car as they entered a tunnel of some kind, the fluorescent buzz that plagued the narrow opening making Dream's eyes sting.

"I'm asking if you're okay, you had a weird expression when I came to pick you up," George said. They exited the tunnel a few moments later, and Dream removed his jacket sleeve, only to realise that George had been looking at him the entire time he had said that.

_\- continuation of flashback -_

"H- Hi, " was all Dream could mumble out, his shivering making him stutter ever so slightly. George sighed.

"Dude you could've waited inside, what were you thinking?" He asked as Dream grabbed hold of his gloved hand that was reaching out. He was glad that he had worn gloves, as he could feel the numbness that radiated from Dream's hand through the thick fabric.

"I wasn't thinking, I was too annoyed with you to think, " Dream said, his smile not breaking.

George cocked his head to the side, "Damn, you look slightly less obnoxious than I imagined."

 _"_ That's the nicest thing you've said to me, " Dream said, letting George guide him to a black car.

"Whatever, let's just get back to mine before you die from hypothermia or something."

_\- end flashback -_

"Dude you still look confused, there's clearly something on your mind, " George said, glancing every so often at his friend beside him. He felt a little bad as he could see Dream's eyes fluttering close, but he was just as bored of the silence as Dream was.

"How would you know? You've never seen me, maybe that's just my resting face?" Dream said.

"So your resting face is looking like a constipated dolphin?" 

"... Huh?... How would you even know what a constipated dolphin looks like?" Dream asked in return, looking at George with wide eyes and confusion.

"I saw you," George said, turning the steering wheel to drive into a side road with terrible lighting. Finally, they were off the high way.

"Hilarious," Dream said, observing the bumps and potholes that littered the derelict road. It was much more neglected than the road they had just been on, and wondered why there was no sign of life. Only trees and bushes and fields for miles, all shadowed by the midnight gloom, "But yeah, I'm fine. I just got a bit startled back at the airport."

"Whatever you say man." 

Another silence glazed over the vehicle for the second time that night.

Guess Dream would have to return to his mind.

This time, however, George's question circled in his head.

_Are you okay?_

Dream couldn't tell if he had lied when he said he was fine to be completely honest.

Truth was, the anxiety of the trip still hadn't subsided. He was worried, really worried, perhaps more than he gave himself credit for. He hated it, he hated the fact that he had only been in London for about two hours and he had already broken one of his rules: _don't stress, stress never helps anyone._

He wondered if more of those rules were about to be broken.

Ridiculous.

That's what he was being. 

He was letting himself worry too much about stuff that didn't warrent thought. He was going to spend a month with his best friend, he should be excited! This was going to be his chance to get closer to the man he had dedicated so much of his time to. So many years of inside jokes, fantasising, planning, and now they're finally in the same country, in arms reach.

He was being ridiculous, he shouldn't let himself worry about what George was planning...

_Oh God what if George was planning something._

No. He wouldn't let himself continue that thought.

Ridiculous.

Houses began to appear along the road, all crooked and wonky in the glow of the moon and darkness of the night. Ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as the person they passed who was jogging along the empty road at such a bizarre hour. Ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as the awkward road junctions that he couldn't keep up with. Ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as the sheer magnitude of artificial sugar that must've been added to his coffee he had been drinking.

Ridiculous; but maybe even that thought was ridiculous in itself.

Dream couldn't tell, and his tiredness was making his thoughts run in a jammed circuit, like a broken record tape cutting back to the same fourth interval just before the climax of a song.

His eyes drooped. His mind wandered. His consciousness slipped.

Sleep was beginning to overtake his senses.

Dream didn't bother to fight it.

"We're almost there, by the way, give it like... I dunno... 5 minutes?" George said in the distance. Dream couldn't help but scoff through his clouded vision.

"Yeah I'm not trusting you with estimating time, " he murmured.

"There was traffic mate, that's why I was late, " George said, his voice slightly raising at the accusation. Dream didn't mind; neither the fact that George raised his volume, nor the fact that George was late. He didn't mind, it was all ridiculous anyways.

Dream nuzzled his head against the seat, ignoring the fact his spine would hate him when he woke up.

"Hey George," Dream asked, his voice raspy as he was slowly slipping into a dreamlike state.

"Mhm," George hummed, looking over at a sleepy Dream.

"Why didn't you turn on the radio?" He asked, syllables slurred.

"Oh, it's broken."

Dream was asleep before he could hear what George had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *a/n: sorry, but just to clarify I like snakes a lot and use them as a compliment, so I'm not trying to call George fake when I say he looks 'snake like' I swear I just really like snakes.


	3. Bones and Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer than the others, but that's 'cus I'm not good with setting up settings. Did my best tho, I don't think the description is too overboard :D enjoy!

The sound of a loud crack out of nowhere is never a good thing to get woken up by. Especially when it really isn't out of nowhere, it's just that you can't figure out which bone is the culprit. Or worse: which _bones_.

Dream had the honour of having to experience that very thing when he finally emerged from his dream. It was a boring one - one where Dream, his sister and some other random person were just vibing in a garden or something - but as the veil of tiredness and grogginess lifted, and Dream's eyes began to dart around under his eyelids, a loud crack echoed in his ears.

Multiple cracks -

\- and damn did it hurt.

Groaning in pain, Dream began to slowly manoeuvre himself into a sitting position, his bones wailing in protest and pain. God, what happened? Did he get hit by a truck or something?

The mild uncomfort he was experiencing was honestly unimaginably annoying - from the itchiness that was irritating his left arm, to the numbness in his right leg - Dream felt as if he had fallen victim to a stampede of elephants. His eyes fluttered open, and expected to see himself all crooked and broken; the smell of iron from old dried blood loitering in the air around him.

He braced himself...

... and slowly opened his right eye.

Huh?

Dream just saw... himself... and a dirty window... and smelt an artificial minty aroma lingering in the stuffy air.

The same smell and sight that he had seen when he had finally drifted off into dreamland.

The last things he remembered from George's car.

_George's car._

Dream shot up, his senses fully awake as he looked around himself in mild confusion. It was bright, the sunlight outside harsh and filled the car with violent illumination. A smooth dashboard ran across from the passenger window to the driver's side, right in front of where he sat; and a large windscreen resided in between them. All three windows looked foggy with water stains and limestone - most probably from prolonged exposure to rain. However, they were the only dirty things about the car.

Before you automatically correct that grammar in your head, thinking Dream meant _in_ the car, rather than _about_ \- nope.

The thing was - _in_ the car was spotless.

As Dream inspected his surroundings, he hadn't realised just how clean everything was in George's car. The gear shift box and drink compartment that separated the driver and passenger seats were sparkling clean, the silver almost reflective in the bright sunshine, causing Dream's still tired eyes to tingle and made him avert his gaze. The seats didn't have a protective cover, but it looked like they didn't need them, the black fabric unscathed nor worn. The carpet that Dream could just about see was crumbless and still fuzzy, almost as if no one had ever laid foot on it.

New.

It all looked new, almost straight from the store.

Once again, Dream was mildly surprised.

George: a safe _and tidy_ driver.

Who would've thought?

Definitely not Dream, but he still wasn't in the right mind frame to be thinking. Hell, he had just orientated that he was in a car and not roadkill. What else did he not realise?

 _If I was sleeping in the car, why am I not cold?_ a voice asked in Dream's mind.

That was when he noticed the soft fabric covering his exposed hands. Looking down, Dream saw that he had a white blanket draped over him, quite carelessly, but it was still there. It was plain, and looked new, almost as new as the car he was in. Dream had only ever seen blankets like that in stores - ones that were neither shaggy nor felted down from extensive use. It was soft, and warm.

Too warm.

Carelessly, Dream threw the blanket off of himself, and fumbled about a bit longer. He looked out of the large windscreen in front of him, and saw terrace houses lined up across the road that George must've parked on. They were jagged, with awkward postures and peeling paint and weeded patches of grass that the owners might've tried to call lawns.

They weren't ugly - God no. Dream had seen the occasionally ugly house, usually abandoned or simply destroyed by age or man's hand.

Those houses were just... odd. Not something Dream was used to seeing. The estate he was from looked like a terracotta army of symmetry. All the houses would line up, curtains drawn wide open, porches dusted, hedges cut. But here - no house looked the same. Even the ones with windows of similar shapes, and doors probably bought from the same store. They each looked unique somehow.

Interesting.

This house had cardboard windows, and that one had none. That one had blue paint slapped thickly on, and that one had no colour at all. Bricks upon bricks upon bricks - yet none were laid the same. It was mesmerising to Dream, and he would've loved to sit there in the car, gazing out at the sea of buildings -

\- but something else clicked in his mind.

Car, blanket, cracking bones.

George had left him in the car for the whole night.

The entire night.

After a long flight, that George had forgotten about.

George had abandoned him in his car.

_The audacity._

Dream couldn't believe it. Had George seriously left him in a car for an entire night? It looked like it, the blanket that resided next to him nodding in agreement. Unbelievable. _Unbelievable_. The sheer _audacity_ of his friend - no; that _man_. That _child_. Not only had he completely forgotten about Dream's flight the previous day, but now he had also left him in a car overnight. Did he even try to wake him up? Probably not! No no, definitely not! A bubbling rage ignited in the depths of Dream's stomach - the temptation to snap a certain someone's neck reemerging with his newfound anger.

The asshole probably locked him in the car to top it off!

_Click._

A soft sound echoed in the silent car, and Dream felt something prod into his elbow that was resting on the window ledge. Lifting his elbow, he saw a small, metal knob poking out of the warm plastic. What? Was it what Dream thought it was?

Only one way to find out.

He grabbed hold of the car door, and pulled -  
  
  
  
  


\- and tumbled straight out of the car.

Onto concrete.

_Hard concrete._

The thud was loud, and Dream cringed at the multitude of bones that had cracked once again. He hadn't realised that his entire body weight was leaning on the door. His fizzing anger started to go flat, as he couldn't help but laugh at himself.

"I got that on video," a voice said, probably a few meters from where Dream was lying down. In one swift motion, Dream pushed himself off the ground and turned to face where he had heard the voice.

There, in the door frame of a rather modern looking house, was George, tucking what seemed to be his phone into the pocket of his hoodie, a cereal bar in his other hand.

Like a match to oil, Dream felt his fizzled anger reignite.

_That dickhead._

"George, what the fuck dude?" Dream said, dusting himself off and glaring at George with eyes of malice. George took a bite of the bar he was holding.

"What?" he simply asked.

Dream shook his head, "Why did you leave me in the car?"

"You wanted me to carry your fat ass out of the car or something?" George asked, scoffing at the idea of heaving Dream out by his neck, "You're like a head taller than me."

"You didn't even try to wake me up."

"Uh yes I did, you're a heavy sleeper Dream," George said, taking another bite, "Which is kinda funny considering your name."

Oh.

"Oh," Dream said, blinking a few times.

"Yeah, oh," George repeated. He took one last bite of the bar and crumbled up the packaging, before swiftly shoving it into his hoodie pocket, "Are you coming inside or not, or are you going to bitch about some more stuff."

Dream couldn't help but let out a small laugh, or was it more of a scoff? It didn't matter either way, as Dream shook his head while saying, "Yeah yeah, I need to get my stuff -"

"Took it inside yesterday," George said, promptly cutting off his friend before turning his back on Dream and walking inside his home. He called back, "Hurry up, you're letting the cold out. Car will automatically lock itself when you shut the door, so take all your shit that's left in the car with you."

Another small oh appeared in Dream's mind.

'Oh' just seemed to be his new favourite word.

Dream was surprised.

So, George _had_ in fact tried to wake him up.

Huh.

Dream never considered himself a heavy sleeper, so that was new information for him. Guess you learn new things everyday.

His attention was once again averted as his eyes finally registered the building before him.

George's home.

Compared to the other houses, George's house looked modern. Very modern. The grey paint looked like it was painted on a few days ago, and the windows looked clean. There were no plants or flowers, only a single green, fake fern stood next to the door that was wide open. It had a relatively dull shape; a simple box with a triangle roof - reminding him of the block game the two enjoyed playing. It looked like something Dream would find on his street back home.

Spacious.

He couldn't decide if he liked that thought or not.

 _George must really like plain things_ , Dream thought to himself as he turned around to go rummaging in the car for any left over belongings.  
Not only had George taken his stuff inside already, but he had also given him a blanket.

That was nice of him.

_Blanket._

It still sat there on the driver's seat, sprawled in all directions.

Dream grabbed hold of it, before grasping his phone that was hiding under the passenger seat and before carefully closing the car door. The soft _click_ indicated that Dream could finally make his way into the cube home. He tugged off his trainers before waltzing inside and closing the door behind him.

Oh, it was much smaller than Dream had thought. The outside of the house looked grand, big, almost luxurious compared to the other homes - but as Dream heard the soft turning of the lock behind him, Dream was welcomed with a narrow hallway and stairs almost immediately next to it.

Claustrophobic.

What a deceiving house that George owned.

The carpet was patchy, and Dream could see bits of stray fluff littered everywhere, stomped in between the dark blue colour. Shoes upon shoes upon shoes were thrown carelessly into a pile immediately next the door, and a coat rack that hung from the ceiling looked ready to explode from the magnitude of garments clinging onto its poor hooks.

Damn, how much stuff did George own?

A dirty mirror was hung just before the pictureless stairway. A stairway that looked like it led up to what seemed like the first floor, each step of the stairs worn with patches of fluff missing from where they met each other.

The outside of the house looked grand, big almost luxurious - clearly, George didn't care for interior design.

And honestly, neither did Dream. Who was he to judge his friend? So, maybe he did have a strange addiction to hoarding coats and shoes, but hey!

His mother always told him, _it's what inside that matters_...

Actually, that might've not been the best idiom to be use his situation, the shoes, coats and fluff stifling their laughter at Dream's thought.

"You know, you can keep your shoes on, my roommates don't care," Dream heard George call from one of the rooms.

Roommates?

_Oh._

George's head emerged from the second door frame in the hallway, just barely peeking over.

"Yeah I forgot to mention, I have three other roommates," he said, before promptly disappearing yet again.

Did he just say _three_ roommates?

"Don't worry, they all pretty chill. Margret usually sleeps through the day as she has night shifts at the hospital, Frank is usually doing drugs under some bridge or hosting meetings with his business partners, and Amy just chills in her room. Actually, now that I think of it, that's all she really does. I think she's some sort of dealer, but I can't be sure." George said nonchalantly, his voice slightly muffled by the wall between them.

"I'm a high school teacher," a foreign voice suddenly called from upstairs, and Dream could only assume that that was the Amy George was referring to, "And be quiet, I'm marking papers."

_Oh._

That word was running on repeat in Dream's head.

He still hadn't processed the fact that George had three roommates. It was such a tiny house, the hallway barely even qualifying to be called a corridor.

How could four people live together in such a small area?

It didn't help that Dream hadn't entirely realised that he'd be the fifth 'room mate' for a while.

Oh.

Oh God.

He felt slightly stupid, standing in the narrow hallway with a blanket pressed against his chest. He looked like a lost child at a carnival, his mind completely blank at the information he had been exposed to.

He didn't want to meet any new people - he was tired enough.

He didn't really have a choice though, now did he?

George stepped out into the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to follow me?" He asked, before walking over and grabbing Dream by his upper arm. Dragging him carefully, they entered the room that George had come from, and Dream was greeted with what looked like living room.

Empty bottles were lined up underneath a small glass coffee table, and an old pink sofa was pushed up against the wall. A large shelf of DVDs was on one side of the sofa, and a large, empty fish tank stood hauntingly on the opposite side. A TV was attached to the wall where the doorframe was, and a radiator right underneath it. Each wall was painted a bizarre colour: one pink, one blue, one green and one yellow - and an archway immediately led into another room where a small folded table resided with three chairs huddled around it. Stray playing cards were sprawled across it.

Oh.

"Thanks for bringing the blanket," George said, taking the soft material from Dream's grasp and throwing it onto the sofa, "If Margret asks, I didn't touch it."

Dream blinked, watching as George left his side and flopped himself down onto the sofa.

"Um, thanks, " Dream muttered out under his breathe.

"What?" George asked, looking over at him.

"Thanks for giving me the blanket last night," Dream said again, rubbing one of his eyelids, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, "It's much appreciated."

"Oh," George said, turning his face away from Dream, "No biggie."

Dream walked over to George before sitting down on the other end of the sofa, the end that wasn't occupied by a sprawled out George. He leaned his head back and rested it on the wall, wondering how so many people could live in such a small house. He still couldn't comprehend it. It may have looked big, grand, almost luxurious - but it was still ridiculous that FOUR people lived in it.

Now he'd be the fifth; the gravity of the thought was slowly starting to dawn on Dream.

Ridiculous.

There that word went again, spinning around among his thoughts, hand in hand with 'oh'.

But he was right, it was ridiculous.

Then again it all did seem like a fever dream.

"So," Dream sighed, still looking at the ceiling.

"So?" George asked, lifting his head off the sofa to look at his friends.

"So," Dream said again, turning his own head to face George, "Now what?"

George tilted his head back in thought, humming to himself. After a little while, he looked back at Dream.

"Well, I don't know. The house is pretty small, and we really only can go into this living area, kitchen and my room," George said, throwing his back to motion to a missing wall that was perpendicular to the room with the small table. Dream hadn't realised there was another exposed room hiding behind the corner, with bright florescent lights and hideous brown cabinets, "Kitchen's in there, Frank tore the wall down to make this area more open."

"Oh," Dream commented, "Frank must be quite the guy then."

"Eh, rarely see the guy anyways, and when you do see him he's usually destroying something or setting it on fire," George said, sighing as if the words 'fire' and 'destroy' didn't just share a sentence together, "But yeah, there isn't much else to marvel at in the house."

Dream nodded, looking back at the ceiling, "I like your bottle collection."

"My what now?" George asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Bottles," Dream said again, not even bothering to motion to them as he felt George grab something quickly and throw it.

"What bottles?" George asked, lying back down on the sofa.

Dream lifted his head and saw that George had thrown the white blanket from before over the glass coffee table to cover the mess that resided underneath. He could still see the bottles poking out, but he didn't comment on it.

"And they're not mine, we just can't be asked to throw away the bottles and leave them under there," George said, shifting his legs onto Dream's lap.

Dream blinked at the sudden contact.

"Dude, your legs," Dream said, looking over at a relaxed George.

"Yes Dream, I have legs," George said, a small smirk hiding at the crevices of his lips. The audacity was back.

"Know what, I don't even care," Dream said, resting his head back again.

"Aw, well that's no fun," George said shifting his body weight to sit up. At least that's what Dream thought George was doing, he just assumed he did by the way the sofa moved underneath him.

He didn't care, he was lost in his own thoughts. He had only been there for barely a full day and already he was bombarded with new information.

He didn't know if he liked it or not. Don't get him wrong, he liked learning new things about his best friend, but he had just barely woken up and it felt like someone was pouring water over his head. Showering him with new information.

 _Four_ roommates? Was there even enough oxygen in the house to be shared amongst them?

"Boo," George whispered, right next to Dream's face, startling the shit out of him. Ripped out of his thoughts, Dream was welcomed back to reality with a yelp and a thud.

"Jesus George, personal space," Dream hissed, rubbing the back of his poor skull.

A moment passed, but only a small moment, before George started to laugh.

Loudly.

He promptly took his legs off of Dream and grabbed hold of his stomach, folding over from laughing jitters. Dream watched as his friend fell into the wooden floor, and couldn't help but smile. It wasn't long before he too was laughing.

He couldn't help it.

It was kinda funny, even though his head probably left a hole in the wall. Before he knew it, the both of them were on the floor, laughing and wheezing over the stupid incident, like there was no tomorrow.

Just like how they usually did when their calls reached a pinnacle, except now they didn't have distance and a wall of technology to hide behind.

"Oh God, I'm going to have so much fun annoying you, now that you don't have a screen protecting you," George gasped out in between laughing fits.

"Ass," was all Dream could respond with, as his wheezing began to subside.

"SHUT UP!" a voice called from upstairs, most likely Amy by the sounds of it.

Dream and George glanced at each other, before giggling once more.

This was going to be a long month.

Dream still couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.


	4. Rain and Child's play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i think i'm getting more comfy with descriptions, so hopefully this chapter is more cohesive than the last. Enjoy!

It had started to rain when Dream had finally settled in. The white blanket from the morning was wrapped tightly around his body, his head resting on the foggy window of George's room, and an empty bowl discarded carelessly next to him. He was gazing out at the storm that had gathered, watching as droplets of water cascaded from the sky like tiny soldiers. He couldn't see much else beyond the glass, a thick fog casting a veil of murkiness to the already dull world outside.

Cold.

It lingered in the air and nipped when one wasn't looking. The blanket only provided so much protection, as the low temperature was beginning to numb Dream's fingers.

Freezing.

A small shiver was wracking his body. Not noticeably, but enough to make Dream wonder if he should go put his coat on.

The morning was pretty uneventful. Other than the whole 'sleeping in the car' incident, Dream had really only just eaten some bland cereal and curled up next to the window. He didn't feel like doing much else. Laziness: always the best solution to when one wants to feel like a rock. Discarded, forgotten about, and most importantly, undisturbed It was fitting anyways; the rain evoked an aura of serenity in the empty room. It created the perfect environment for Dream to just zone out, void himself of unwanted thoughts and dilemmas. He didn’t feel like doing much, and needed some rest - a small break from all the commotion that happened the day before ya’know. A splodge of needed grey in the mirage of dull colours that he had found himself in.

"Whatcha up to?" Asked a muffled voice behind Dream. He turned away from the window to look at his friend. Another empty cereal bar wrapper resided in his hand, the other stuffed in his pocket.

"Nothing really," Dream replied, pulling the blanket closer, "it's just really cold."

"Don't be a dumb," George said, before swallowing down what he was eating and walking over to sit on his bed, "If this is too cold for you now, you won't survive the night."

"Wow, so reassuring, "Dream mocked, rolling his eyes and averting his gaze back to the sparkling particles.

"Your very welcome mah dude," George smiled, throwing up some finger guns. Not that Dream could see them, his gaze was too preoccupied with counting how many trees who could see in the land of fog outside.

George frowned.

Why wasn't Dream being his usual nauseatingly bouncy self? In fact, Dream hadn’t really done anything _Dream_ like since he had landed. Was he sick or something? In a burst of curiosity, George grabbed the nearest thing he could put his hands on and chucked it at Dream. He carefully watched as Dream jumped at the impact of the pillow, hoping it would stir the still waters.

"Wow, so mature," Dream muttered, looking back at the world as if nothing had happened.

George frowned yet again. He had expected Dream to pick up the pillow and chuck it back at him. After all, his friend had always been very competitive. Worried? No, George definitely wasn't worried. Bored? That's more like it. He was bored, and slowly growing tired of Dream looking at everything like he had never seen it before. It was ridiculous.

Ridiculous, he needed to think of something stupid enough that it would catch Dream off guard. Yes. That's exactly what he needed to do. Prod at his ego, tempt his temper... _perfect._

At that, a bright idea spawned in George's mind.

A very bright, and beautifully dumb idea.

"Let's go to the park," George said spontaneously, looking at Dream with a serious stare.

Dream coughed. The surprise had caused him to choke. What did George just say?

"What did you say?" Dream asked.

"Park, go," George said, saying the words in a mockingly slow fashion.

"Dude it's raining," Dream said, motioning to the pitter that was hitting the window at a constant pace.

"And?" George asked, raising his eyebrow.

"That's a reason not to go," Dream said, tilting his head.

"On the contrary, that's the reason we should go," George said, with a smirk plastering his face. Well, he definitely accomplished catching Dream off guard it seemed, the rapid blinking and puzzled gaze spelled 'morbidly confused'. It was rather amusing watching as Dream struggled to wrap his head around _why_ George would want to go; George had to bite his lip to stop himself from giggling.

"George I just got here, I don't want to get sick on the first day and spend the rest in bed," Dream said, raising his pitch.

"Aw, why not?" George asked, slightly disappointed.

"That's a reason as to why not," Dream said.

"On the contrary, that's the reason why we should," George said, now trying _desperately_ to hold in his laughter. He was slightly scared that if Dream saw him laugh, he’d grow skeptical. Well… more skeptical than he already was.

What was he even trying to achieve? Truth be told, even George didn't know. He was just very bored, and usually when he was bored, he'd try to do something stupid. Typically, he'd go do it with Frank or Margret if they weren't passed out, but neither were there, and Dream was in front of him. As an opportunist, he'd be stupid not to pounce at the chance to do something dumb with his best friend.

“George, I hope you know you’re not a very trustworthy person,” Dream said, cautiously trying to remind his friend of the obvious.

George just had to play his cards right.

"I'll buy you something if you go?" Maybe bribery?

"Bribery will only work on you dude, that phone in your pocket is technically mine after all," Dream chuckled.

"I'll chuck you out the house if we don't go," Maybe threats?

"Good luck moving me with your noodle arms," Dream scoffed.

"I had a vision, and we must go," Maybe pretending to be a prophet?

"I think you were just on drugs George."

"The rain is an illusion," He was running out of ideas.

"And the universe is a hologram."

"I'll promise to be nice?" Maybe an empty promise?

"I'm not falling for your bullshit," Dream sighed, and while he did raise his hand, he abruptly dropped it and let his attention be brought back to the window. Alas, despite his efforts, George's brain could no longer muster another speck of a persuasive idea. Despite it spluttering and coughing, it was no use, his half-arsed effort was all in vain in the end. Tragic. Half a beat went by of silence, echoing loudly in his empty head. _Eh, can't have everything in life_ , George told himself mentally. He crossed his arms and slouched back into the head rest of the bed. An uncomfy position, sure, but he was too annoyed at the minor defeat to care.

"Wow... didn't know I was friends with a pussy," was all he could mutter. Maybe he'd also try zoning out like Dream was. Yeah, it wasn't as if he could do anything other than gaze out into nothingness. _Fun._

Silence.

It rang in Dream's ears as he looked quickly back at his friend. George wasn't paying attention. Good. He couldn’t see the cringe that had appeared on Dream's face.

That... kinda stung.

He didn't know why, but for some reason George insulting him stirred something in him. Like a dart to his chest, or a pinch to his arm. It didn’t hurt, but it was just enough for him to notice it.

All he knew was that George calling him a pussy in a serious tone didn't sit right with him. He wanted to prove him wrong.

Really wanted to.

Quickly, Dream threw the blanket off of himself and stood up, stretching his limbs. A few cracks and clicks echoed in the room, but Dream didn't care. His mind was more dead set on proving George wrong.

For some reason.

It was George's turn to look puzzled. The blanket had slapped him in his face and startled him. Pulling the blanket off of himself, George saw Dream tugging on his boots and grabbing his coat that was sitting on George's chair.

What?

"What?" George asked, confused as to what he was seeing.

"Park, go," Dream said, mimicking George's accent with a grin.

George paused.

_No way -_

"You can't be serious," George said, blinking. No way would Dream agree to this.

"Well you sounded hella serious when you were begging me to go," Dream shrugged.

_There was literally no way -_

"Who are you and where is the real Dream?" George asked, getting up himself and picking up his own shoes.

_-But it didn't matter if there was 'no way’ -_

"Are you complaining?" Dream asked, a competitive glare igniting in his eyes.

_\- George wasn't about to let this slip through his fingers._

"On the contrary," George smirked, a childish joy setting ablaze.

"Race you to the door," Dream said quickly, before dashing out of the room.

"HEY, that's not fair you got a head start," George shouted behind Dream, desperately scrambling to pull on his own boots. The laces were tangled beyond salvation, but they were loose enough for George to brute force his feet into them. It's not like it mattered anyways, it was only a minor set back.

"Hurry up dude, I'm not going to wait all day," shouted Dream from downstairs. He ran. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he was greeted with an open door and a loud pouring sound.

Dream was outside waiting for him.

"You aren't taking an umbrella?" Asked George, stepping out himself and drawing his hood over his head.

"Umbrellas are unnecessary," Dream laughed, walking down the driveway and onto the empty street.

"Dude we aren't waterproof," George shouted to Dream, running up to him. The rain had started to soak them, but George didn't care. Fun: this was fun - and that was more important than his clothes in that moment.

"We have coats," Dream snickered, walking down the road.

"You're going to wrong way Dream," George said, walking over and grabbing Dream's arm before he could waltz away.

"I knew that," Dream said, turning around and letting George guide him to the who knew where.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, the updates will be more spaced out from this point, since I'll actually have to plan out each chapter onwards. Enjoy this part though, it'll only get more ditzy from here :D

Dream thought that the seeping water and drenched clothes would bug him, but he was mildly surprised to find that he didn't even mind it as he and George trekked down the pavement. It was mainly just them making jokes and laughing while speeding up occasionally, with lots of empty threats to run away and abandon the other.

He couldn't see anything. The fog had thickened and the rain hadn't budged. It still poured down, the gentle pitter from the window not seeming so gentle now as it hit his skin. To him, it seemed as if they were walking through clouds.

Cold. It was still cold. It still nipped at his exposed neck and numbed his fingers - but he didn't mind. He was enjoying himself.

George's laugh was enough to distract him from the freezing.

"Aight, we here," George announced, letting go of Dream's arm and disappearing into the fog, rather abruptly. Dream blinked. 

"George wait, the fog! -" he began to shout, but was stopped mid-sentence by an "Oomph" and a thud. He hadn't seen the hip tall gate.

"Ppffftt that was beautiful," George chuckled, laughing yet again. He walked towards the silhouette of his friend holding his stomach.

"I didn't see the gate," Dream said, jumping over it with ease.

"It would've been funnier if you had," George said, his giggling subsiding as the two stepped into the lifeless land.

The park was empty. Completely empty. It was a small child's playground with a few leafless trees scatter around and some equipment frames littered here and there. A slide, some swings, a roundabout: the usual. Dream knew that he was dumb for noticing it was empty - after all, the weather wasn't exactly ideal for children - but that wasn't the reason that that was the first thing that came to his mind as he looked at the muddy trodden down grass.

It was ghost town empty. Completely. It looked almost abandoned with that overlaying gray hue. Sad, cold, empty: it looked like the spawning ground of phantoms and serial killers. Serial killers. That's right, the scene made Dream wonder if he had walked into a horror movie.

"George, did you bring me here to get murdered?" Dream asked, straining his eyes and trying to look for the other side of the fence. He couldn't see it.

"Nnahhh, this is perfectly safe! Trust me," George said, a fake smile appearing on his red face. Dream looked at him appalled.

"That smile is as reassuring as this idea." 

"Soooooo very reassuring I presume?" George asked, laughing and walking over to something and sitting down.

The rain had settled into a drizzle, but it still blurred Dream's eyes and matted his hair further. He didn't have a hood like George did, so his head was completely dripping and damp. Honestly, he didn't mind it. 

He walked over to where George was sitting and saw an old rusty swing set. It had peeling blue paint and the chains looked ready to snap. It sure as hell didn't look safe, but fuck it. Dream sat on the idle seat next to George and swung back a bit. He knew that swinging on the ancient artefact was a very dumb idea, but it was a fun idea. He felt like an oblivious teen sneaking around - he rarely did mindless things like that in recent years. He had kind of missed the subtly exhilarating feeling of knowing _full well_ he shouldn't be doing this.

"Ay! The rain calmed down a bit," George said, lifting the palm of his hand to collect some water.

"Kind of, but it's still freezing," Dream said, shivering.

"UmBrElLa'S aRe uNnEceSsaRy," George said in a mocking American accent, laughing and swinging back on his seat. His feet were just about touching the ground as the swing gently rocked back and forth.

"Listen okay, you're taking that out of context," Dream tutted, watching as his friend's swing lost momentum rather quickly, and slowly returned to its resting point. He thought the swing would creak, but no. He was surprised to find it was silent.

"Context?" George asked, a look of puzzlement appearing on his face,"Dream I don't think there was any context to begin with -"

"Shhh, look at how pretty the fog is," Dream shushed, turning his gaze to the barely visible glittering. It did look rather pretty. Serene. It reminded him of the warm window he was huddled next to back in George's room, and the warmth of George's car as he watched street-lamps zip by. It wasn't warm in that particular moment, but hey, it was calming.

"Eh, it looks better when it doesn't have a layer of frost everywhere," George said, pulling his coat tighter around himself. It was supposed to be waterproof, and it kind of was. If only it went beyond George's hips and protected his legs. Then again, you can't have everything.

"I wouldn't know," Dream said, gently rocking back and forth on his swing.

"I would," George said, doing the same on his.

...

...

...

Wait -

"Oh? You come here often?" Dream asked, stopping his swing with his feet, rather suddenly. George couldn't pinpoint the strange shift in Dream's tone. What was that? Curiosity? Worry?

"Used to," George said after a few moments, unsure of what to make of his friend small display of behaviour. At that Dream visibly relaxed, sighing... in relief? George thought for a moment, before realising -

"Wait did you think I come here as an adult?" George said, turning abruptly to his friend with horror in his eyes.

"I mean... the way you said it..." Dream chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, " and depends what you mean by come -"

"DUDE, THE FUCK, NO!" George shouted, punching his friend in the arm harmlessly. 

"What?! Word your sentences better!" Dream protested, pretending to be hurt. Truth be told, he couldn't really feel anything, the cold had taken away his ability to feel pain.

"I was gonna tell you about how I came here as a child, why the fuck did you have to ruin the moment," George said, desperately trying to stifle his laughter, looking over at the abandoned round about.

"Moment? What? Were we about to kiss?" 

"Shut up already," George chuckled.

"Mwah," Dream said sarcastically, winking at George.

"I'm going to be sick." 

"That may just be the cold," Dream wheezed, clinging to the rustic chain that just barely held his weight.

"Yeah, maybe we shouldn't have come here in the freezing cold rain," George noted, looking about.

"It was your idea," Dream protested.

"Yeah but that doesn't mean it's a good idea now does it?" George asked, sticking his tongue out at Dream, who had finally calmed down from his wheezing high.

"Eh, whatever. So, you were saying?" Dream asked, sitting up straight.

"Saying what?" George retorted.

"Something about childhood?"

"Oh hell no, you ruined the moment, now I'm not in the mood to share," George said, crossing his arms, trying his best to hide his smile behind reddened hands.

"Woooww, it's like my little sister all over again," Dream said rolling his eyes, trying his best to hide his own small smile,"What next, you blame me for the rain?"

Just as George was about to say something, the rain ceased. Just like that, in a split of a second. It caught both of them off guard, causing both of their giggling jitters to dissolve and evaporate.

Silence. Stillness. Nothing.

Just a fizzling mist, and two overgrown children sitting alone in a playground.

"Wow, this place is creepier than I remembered,"George said, rubbing his hands together.

"Yeah, I said it looks like a horror movie," Dream noted, letting out a deep breathe. A puff of frost appeared in front of his nose.

"Yeah, I guess." 

"You came here often as a kid?" Asked Dream. Curiosity began to creep in, despite George just moments ago saying he wasn't in the mood to share.

"Yeah, I grew up in that house and came here a lot when I was bored and needed some air," George sighed, watching as he too had a smoke bubble appear from his hot breathe. Dream smiled at George's short term memory loss, before noticing something.

"Really? Where are your parents?" Dream asked, genuinely surprised. Wasn't it usually the kid moving out?

"They moved and left me the house. Yeah I know it's weird, but hey, I don't mind," George said, lifting his head to look at the sky. It was grey - George didn't know what he expected. It's not like the fog would suddenly part just because he wanted to see some clouds.

"Your roommates?"

"What about them?"

"Well, your parents moved out and now you live with other people," Dream said.

"Oh yeah, well London isn't exactly cheap, and I don't mind living with other people, it's never quiet," George smiled.

"Usually people would complain about that," Dream raised his eyebrow.

"Welp, what can I say. Silence makes me uncomfortable," George chuckled.

"Huh, weirdo," Dream snorted, "Is that why you insist on screami -" George whacked him in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

"Hey that's mean," George said, sticking his tongue out.

"Keep sticking your tongue out and someone will bite it off." Hey, Dream had completely forgotten about the cold!

"Now that's weird," George said, pulling a face.

"What? Your parents never said something similar to stop you from sticking your tongue out?" Dream asked, looking over at George, who was soaked, red-faced and disarrayed. As much as he wanted to laugh at the ramifications of this marvellous idea, he kept his mouth shut. He knew he looked equally bad, if not worse.

"Nah, it was usually just 'George stop doing that'," George said, not noticing his friend was looking at him. His hood must've fallen off his head at some point, as the cold was beginning to numb his ears.

"That's boring," Dream said, slightly disappointed at his friends blunt response.

"Dream, you're not considering what they were telling me to stop doing," George said, glancing over at Dream. He was slightly startled to see two green eyes looking back at him, but not enough to make him jump.

"It couldn't've be that bad -" Dream started, but was swiftly cut off by his giggling friend, with a finger to his lips.

"Dream, don't challenge me on childhood stupidity, just take my word on that," he said, looking into Dream's eyes before pulling away his hand. Oh god, that was not a smile George wanted to see. It spelt out 'Did you mean feel free to harass me about it until I finally tell you?'

Dream wanted to challenge him. He wanted to hear it.

"Please?" Dream asked as sweetly as he could.

"No," George bluntly replied.

"Please." 

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pwease?"

"No."

"pLeAsE?"

"No."

"Ples?"

"For god's sake no."

"You're no fun," Dream complained, turning his gaze away and swinging back on the set.

"Aha sure sure," George said, squinting his eyes.

He wasn't in the mood to argue, the cold had started to annoy him. Both of them were shivering, water dripping from their noses and teeth clattering, and while their attention had been shifting from conversation to the atmosphere back to conversation, they couldn't ignore the weather anymore. This was a really dumb idea - Dream had just started to notice how much of a euphemism that sentence was turning out to be. They'd both definitely be sick in the next few days. Oh well, it was worth it. He was still having fun, both him and George. They felt like little kids all over again, without a care in the world, even if it meant there would be some coughs in the upcoming days.

Suddenly, Dream started to swing a little. Not a lot, but it was enough to make the swing start creaking. He felt as the mist tickled his face, and listened to the subtle sounds of rustic chain against metal. The even creaks at each small rocking movement almost sounding like a haunting lullaby in the arena of gloom. Back and forth, slow and gentle. George started to swing too, looking over at his friend with a smirk. He wondered if Dream could read his mind.

Dream simply looked back at him and smiled as well. He sure as hell could.

Higher and higher, harder and harder the two swung, trying their best to swing higher than the other. The sounds at each downward movement getting more desperate than the last, louder and more forced. The swings gained momentum, almost like a jack in the box, gradually getting more and more wined up before popping out with a _boo_ and a fright. Dream felt as the wind passed his frozen face, and closed his eyes against the fresh breeze. He was enjoying the moment as best as he could, carefree.

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Snap.

Snap?

Oh.

Oh no.

That couldn't be good.

Dream expected to feel a harsh thud and pain pulse through him, but he didn't. In fact, he was still sitting. Opening his eyes and looking over, Dream saw George on the ground, bits of chain scattered around him.

Oh.

Oh that was just precious.

A fit of wheezing exploded in the atmosphere, scaring away nearby wildlife and people, if there even were any around. He laughed so hard he swore he saw stars for a moment, before falling to the ground with an equally loud thud., next to his dazzled friend.

George just sat there, wide-eyed. He hadn't expected that. Not one bit. But looking over at his dying friend, he couldn't help but start laughing himself. The cold had numbed him enough that he didn't feel any pain. Good. It meant that he could use all his energy to match his friend's hectic laughter, despite the small destruction of public property.

This was a really dumb idea; Dream noted how the mini crime scene they had just created only topped that fact off, as they got to their feet and started running.


End file.
